How I finally, truly, stopped caring about social media

I recently read a book called The Practice of Groundedness by Brad Stulberg. It was eye-opening and affirming to read right now, after the 18 months we've all had, and after a period in which I have, personally, been trying to figure out why I always feel so unbalanced and unproductive. 

A lot of the book is about adjusting expectations and accepting who you are and where you are. It's also about how life is a path, not a game to be won, which I found particularly relevant to creative work. So much of being a writer is completing this book and then completing that book, which leads me to view writing as a task to be accomplished on its own. It's a lot more satisfying, though, to think of all the writing, and all the books, as parts of this life I'm living. Writing isn't a game to be won, it's a skill and a craft to keep working on for as long as I can. It is, as Stulberg says, a practice, and that the way to think about a successful practice is that it's a process of building something up, knowing it will fall apart, and then building it back up again. When it falls apart, that doesn't mean you lost. It means you're living.

Successful practice takes time. "Generally speaking," says Stulberg, "good things take time to come to fruition...Sometimes you need to pound the stone over and over again before it breaks. Remember that doesn't mean your previous blows weren't working." Did you need to hear this? I sure did. So much of writing is whacking at a story with a metaphorical hammer. It's comforting to remember that it's all working, it's all part of the path, and it's supposed to take time.

So this book came to me at a time when I've been thinking about focus, productivity, balance, and inspiration. I have spent many years trying to figure out why I had a list of things to do, and why, at the end of the day, I had done a fraction of the things on the list. 

I realized that I was focusing just fine. It was just that I was focusing on the wrong things. I was focusing on the internet, on reviews, on what other people were talking about. I focused a lot on cute dogs doing cute things in cute videos. I focused so, so well on the immersive worlds that live in my computer and in my phone.

I challenged myself to stay off social media. I scheduled deep work sessions (which definitely helped). I changed my phone to grayscale. And still I'd let myself get knee-deep in the digital world I was trying to get free from. And I always felt grumpy about it. Stulberg relays a quote from the Stoic philosopher Epictetus: "If you consort with someone covered in dirt you can hardly avoid getting a little grimy yourself." Which: yeah. That's how I felt. Grimy. Social media was making me feel grimy. Yet, there I was. Every day.

Ok, so here's what I figured out. I needed more than "I don't want to keep getting sucked into the internet" as a reason. Maybe that's enough for you, but I realized I needed something else. A different reason. More reason. I started to think about what I did want to do. What I did want to focus on. And, following the ideas I read about in The Practice of Groundedness, I took my time. I spent time journaling about what exactly I wanted to focus on. I found this to be helpful, and there are some other ideas here. I came up with the four things I want to spend the most time on. I've seen this referred to as finding your core values, or figuring out your authentic code, but I'm going to call it my focus frogs, because hey, I'm a children's book author, what do you want.

Guess what? "Be on social media" wasn't anywhere near what I wanted to focus on. My four focus frogs are: the frog that is inspired creativity, a frog for having a beautiful and calm home, the frog of a satisfied and successful family inside that home, and a final frog of feeling healthy and strong. Yours are surely different. Your frogs are your frogs.

I can't believe it took me this long to figure this out, but it's the thing that has finally helped me step away from social media. I decided to check my mentions on Twitter and Instagram twice a week, unless I have something specific to post (I deleted Facebook months ago, which, uh, I'm feeling pretty great about, and I've never bothered to figure out TikTok or anything else). For a few weeks now, that's what I've been doing. And it's great. I am shocked how much I truly don't want to look at them. 

It's only been a few weeks. Maybe something huge will happen, some other giant frog will appear, and I'll be back to checking daily. Or maybe a series of small frogs will happen. But I am enjoying not feeling grimy. I've been writing a lot. Some of it will never be on a printed page. I'm playing with words and having fun. Being on the path. I have found that focusing my attention on the digital world directly affects my ability to access clarity and inspiration. It's like Epictetus's "grime" is a film covering me and blocking me from creative revelations.

Two weekends ago I went hiking in New Hampshire (family! health!), which is where the photo at the top of this email was taken. It was hard. My feet hurt. But it was also awe-inspiring and beautiful. We saw ravens circling at the top of the mountain, swooping and playing in the air. The trees in the valley were almost comically bright in all their autumn colors. And, listen, I love you all. Truly. I care about each of you. But I also think you understand if I don't post to Instagram when I'm on the top of a mountain with my family. We're good enough friends by now that you're not going to be mad about that. And you know what? I'm not going to be mad if you do the same. If you don't look at Twitter for four days because you're reading books that fill your creative well and playing around with a novel outline? I'm not going to be mad at all. 

Here is what was on the white board at the bottom of the mountain:

I thought about going into Conference Room A to ask what my dream is, but I couldn't figure out how to do it without making it the worst, most awkward conversation. But I think I figured it out anyway: know what my focus frogs are right now, and then remember those frogs. It's my life to live. I don't need to do what some tech mogul wants me to do. (Take that, tech moguls! I'm going to be writing books, doing yoga, and reading on the couch with my kids!)

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Thoughts and Links

• I had a great time talking with the Yours in Books illustrator, Gabriel Alborozo, and our Cameron Kids editor, Amy Novesky, on the Picture Book Look podcast. It's a super quick (11 minutes long!) conversation, give it a listen.

• I love the review Margie Myers-Culver did of Yours in Books. She noticed all sorts of tiny details that I wove into the narrative (or that Gabe wove into the illustrations). "Read this book for sheer enjoyment or to promote a discussion about the power of books to change lives or how letter writing can forge friendships."

• I was on the picture-book-recommendation site Max's Boat recommending some of my favorite picture books.

• Our old friend Cal Newport used my call-in question on his podcast a few weeks ago, in episode 134. I asked about how to transition from a time of drastically-reduced productivity to being able to work without anyone else in my house. Luckily he didn't roast me, and it's fun to hear him say my name several times, and say things like "what you're doing, Julie, is right" and "build your [writing] shed, Julie, and everyone else should do their metaphorical equivalent." I show up around the 24-minute mark.

• I can't stop thinking about reindeer cyclones.

• There's something Lizzy Goodman said in her interview with Radiohead's Ed O'Brien on the Difficult Artist podcast that I'm still thinking about. She said, "The job of creative life is to protect the sandbox from the adults." And she clarifies that you are included among the adults. Your job is to protect your ability to play without worrying about whether you're doing it right or what anyone else will say. 

• Last month, I gave away a copy of Yours in Books to one lucky newsletter subscriber. The random number generator chose Michael Karg, who very kindly reciprocated with his picture book, I Am the Wind, illustrated by Sophie Diao. Have you read it yet? It's a gorgeous, lyrical, nonfictionish poem of a story, narrated by the wind in all the places it goes. 

• I really loved the conversation with Lauren Groff on the S**t No One Tells You About Writing podcast. She talks about fast drafting, how writing longhand gives her a stronger emotional and sensory connection to her book, how she set boundaries to protect her writing, and why playing with different POVs is her favorite fun thing. I haven't read her newest book, The Matrix, yet, but I'm really looking forward do it. Have you read it yet?

• Thank you to Jasmine Guillory for linking (in her always-a-must-read newsletter) to this excellent article explaining the supply-chain issues facing books right now. Order those holiday books early! I'll remind you that if you ever want signed, personalized copies of any of my books, order them from Print: A Bookstore. 

• If you have already read my latest book, Yours in Books, and you liked it, can I encourage you to leave it a review? Reviews help put it in front of more people. You're the best. I give you five stars!